


MCR Ficlets

by ViciousVenin



Category: Bandom, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic), The Used
Genre: M/M, Random & Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-11 00:59:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 5,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11703480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViciousVenin/pseuds/ViciousVenin
Summary: This is just going to be a compilation of short things I write about MCR. None of these stories are connected unless stated otherwise. Will have various ships. Hope you enjoy! Also, I reserve the right to use any of these scenes in longer works lol.(Marked as complete because all individual chapters are stand-alone, completed stories, but is still being updated)Ratings & pairings by chapter:1. Bunk Troubles - G2. Stage Squabble - T (Frank/Jamia mentioned)3. A Hard Night - M (Frank/Gerard)4. But the Back Seat... - G (Frank/Gerard, high school AU)5. Undone - E (Kobra/Cola)6. An Equal Exchange - E (Mikey/Pete)7. The Plague Looks Good On You - G8. Fine Art - G9. Young and Loaded - G10. Shut Up - T (Gerard/Bert)11. Delayed Gratification - E (Frank/Gerard)





	1. Bunk Troubles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally this had to have happened at some point.
> 
> Rated G.

“Nope, nope, nope, nope!” Frank scrambled away from the wall as fast as he could as soon as he saw it. Why the fuck did it have to be _his_ bunk? Huh? Why him and not anyone else on this stupid bus?

Frank toppled out of bed and onto the floor in his attempt to escape, and he was grateful that he had picked a bottom bunk for this tour. “Fucking _nope!_ ”

“Frankie, what’s the problem?” Gerard asked, peeking out from the curtains of the bunk across the way and above Frank’s.

Frank breathed hard as he stared at the wall of his bunk, not letting the thing out of his sight. “There’s…” he started, but paused to inhale a deep breath. “There’s a fucking…” He couldn’t say it. Instead, he widened his eyes and raised a finger to point at the wall across from him.

“What the fuck, Frank,” Gerard grumbled as he reluctantly climbed out of his bunk and kneeled down beside Frank. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“It’s… it’s in… it’s in my fucking bed!” Frank finally managed to say.

“Frank! Jesus Christ, you nearly gave me a heart attack, fuck!” Gerard sighed, but Frank didn’t look any less terrified. “Seriously? That has _got_ to be the smallest spider I have ever seen in my life.” He chuckled and rose to his feet. “Don’t take your eyes off it,” he said over his shoulder as he went in search of a cup and a piece of paper.

Frank nodded frantically. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”


	2. Stage Squabble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Gerard talking about the leather jacket falling apart.
> 
> Mentions of Gerard's alcoholism and Frank/Jamia. Rated T.

" _Fuck_ , dude. You smell!" Frank laughed that stupid stoner laugh as he passed by Gerard, pressing his hand over his mouth and nose comically.

"I fucking know, okay? Get off me about it," Gerard shot back angrily, surprised at how much Frank's harmless comment made his blood boil. He was embarrassed about his hygiene now, which wasn't something he'd ever had to deal with before. When he was living alone in the basement it didn't matter what he smelled like as long as he could stand it, and he could always stand it.

He stood there in the middle of the dressing room, wearing a rank-smelling shirt that really shouldn't smell that bad after just one wear, wondering if there was anything he could do to wash the stink off him before they went on stage and made it worse. "Anyone got any vodka?"

"Gerard, you've had enough already," Brian chastised him.

"No, fuck, Jesus it's for my shirt. Helps get the stink out. And don't get on me about how much I can and can't drink." Gerard pointed an accusatory finger at Brian.

Brian held up his hands in mock surrender. "Whatever, dude," but he didn't tell Gerard if there was any vodka around or where to find some. Instead, he just said, "Two minutes, guys," and left the dressing room.

The collective anxiety about the imminent show really set in then. Frank started jumping up and down, Mikey finally put down his cellphone and put on his gameface, Ray tried one last time to tame his hair, and Matt stood in the corner twirling his drumsticks. They lined up to go out on stage and suddenly Gerard was affronted by the disgusting smell of them all crammed into a tight space. Sure, the worst of it was probably coming from him and Mikey, but the other guys didn't exactly smell like a bed of roses. Gerard dreaded what sleeping in the van would be like tonight.

They were ushered on stage and greeted by too-bright lights and a small but energetic crowd. Gerard was thankful for the drinks he'd had earlier as he knew there was no fucking way he could deal with these nerves without the booze to loosen him up a little.

They launched into their first song and drove right through the following three, feeding off the rabid energy of the crowd. They didn't stop to take a break. They didn't sip from water bottles, they didn't wipe the sweat from their brows. They didn’t need to. They were going their hardest for this show and it made Gerard feel like he was alive for a change.

"What happened to the leather jacket?" Gerard heard someone yell form the crowd.

He sighed, knowing Frank would forever hold the Great Disintegration over his head. "The leather jacket got destroyed... Fell apart due to sweat." There was a chorus of sympathetic groans from the crowd, and he appreciated that at least these kids wouldn't be the ones to make fun of him. No, he would have to count on his bandmates to do that.

Gerard could hear Frank snickering behind him and he shot a scathing looking in Frank's direction. It didn't deter him one bit, though. Not at all.

"Yeah Gerard's one sweaty ass dude. You don’t know stink until you’ve toured with this motherfucker," Frank said into his mic.

Gerard knew Frank was just trying to mess with him in that not-nice-but-still-loving way that he had, but tonight Gerard wasn't having any of it. "Yeah, and _this_ motherfucker, Frank Anthony Iero, he likes to have phone sex with his girlfriend when he knows damn well the rest of us can hear him." Gerard flashed Frank a winning smile and saw that Frank's own grin had fallen.

“Fuck, dude. Seriously?” Frank said quietly. He couldn’t believe Gerard went there. He wracked his brain for something to say before narrowing his eyes and shooting back with, “Well _this_ piece of shit, Gerard Arthur Way,” he said mockingly, “thinks his stupid girls’ pajama pants are cool and insists we stare at his ass when he walks away in them.” He grinned at Gerard, and it seemed their facial expressions had swapped places once again.

Gerard’s eyes widened. He stared at Frank, not even pretending to be paying attention to the crowd anymore. “They happen to feel nice and they make my ass look damn good. And I never said you _had_ to watch me walk away. Now, _this_ man right here,” he said and pointed at Frank, “likes to–”

“Would you two just shut the fuck up?” Ray said exasperatedly. Gerard frowned, but didn’t push it. “Sorry about that,” Ray now addressed the crowd, “We’re gonna get on with the show now if these two don’t mind.”

Gerard continued to scowl at Ray, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Frank’s smug face, complacent in having had the last word.


	3. A Hard Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had way too much fun writing this.
> 
> I'm absolutely terrible at writing present tense as I constantly slip into past tense for some reason, but I've been trying to get better at it. If you notice tense-switching, please tell me so I can fix it. Thank you!
> 
> Frank/Gerard below. Rated M.

Frank groans and turns over for the hundredth time this night. Or, at least, it _feels_ like the hundredth time. He cracks his eyes open to look at the alarm clock on his bedside table. 4:33 am. He has to be up for a band-and-family breakfast in four hours. Fuck his life.

The first night after the end of a tour is always the worst. You’ve come down from the high of the last show, the after-parties are long over, and you have to start becoming a participating member of society again. Your sleep schedule is fucked, your body is exhausted beyond belief, and everyone expects you to spend time with them now that you’re home. It sucks.

Frank sighs and starts to roll over again, but before he can his phone buzzes from beside the alarm clock. He quickly reaches out for it and checks the caller ID. Gerard. That fucker probably can’t sleep either.

“Hey,” he says as he flips the phone open.

“Hey.” Gerard sounds incredibly tired, and he doesn’t say anything else.

“Can’t sleep?” Frank asks.

“Yeah… You?”

“Yeah.” It’s nice to hear Gerard’s voice, even if he isn’t saying much. He pictures the other man lying in his bed at home, sheets and hair ruffled from trying to fall asleep for who knows how long, same as Frank. He wonders how much Gerard is wearing, if he’s sleeping in pajamas like he usually does or maybe boxers after having shed the rest of his clothes in frustration. Frank’s skin starts to heat up at the thought.

“What are you thinking about?” Gerard asks, dragging Frank out of his thoughts.

Frank doesn’t know what to say. He can’t tell the truth, but his brain won’t focus on anything other than Gerard’s pale form against dark bedsheets. “I– uhh. Not really anything. Nothing.”

“Okay…” Gerard sounds deeply skeptical.

“I just– fuck. It’s good to hear your voice, okay? That’s what I’m thinking.”

“Yours too.” He pauses. “Listen, I, like, _have_ to know.”

Frank scrunches up his face in confusion. “What?”

Gerard sighs sounding defeated. “What are you wearing?”

Frank lets out a short, crude laugh. “Really? Fuck, that’s cliché.”

“Don’t make fun of me! I just wanna know.”

Frank laughs again but tells Gerard, “Boxers. You _know_ I sleep in boxers.”

“Yeah but… which ones?”

Frank gulps. Gerard sounds embarrassed and serious, like he isn’t just trying to lighten the mood. “Um. The blue ones. The ones you like.” Gerard had told him as much on their last tour when they'd slept together in hotel beds on opposite sides, not touching. Never touching.

“Yeah I do like those.” Gerard’s voice sounds strained, but Frank can’t be sure why.

“Why do you ask?” Frank says as he slides his free hand down to the waistband of the boxers he just described to Gerard, playing a little with the elastic and trying to ignore his hardening cock beneath the cotton. He’s failing.

“I– I just. I don’t know. I mean…” Gerard trails off. “I just wanted to know.”

Frank hums in agreement and closes his eyes to the sound of Gerard’s breathing. It sounds slightly labored, like he’s trying to keep it under control. “What are _you_ wearing?”

“I– um. Well,” he blows out a long stream of air, “if I’m being honest… nothing. I’m wearing nothing.”

Frank’s eyes snap open. “Really?” He hadn’t expected that. He hadn’t even expected Gerard to be wearing as little as a pair of boxers like he’d imagined earlier. Frank’s brain was now being bombarded with images of Gerard lying naked in bed, speaking low into his phone with Frank on the other end.

“Yeah,” Gerard says and his voice is definitely tight now. A few beats of silence pass, and then, “Look, Frankie, I _know_ we don’t do this but I can’t help thinking–”

“You want me to help you fall asleep,” Frank finishes for him.

“I– uhh, yes. If you could. That’d be… nice.” Gerard sounds incredibly flustered now, and he probably thinks he’s the only one, but Frank is just barely keeping his own embarrassment out of his voice.

“Yeah. Yeah, I can help.” Frank nods, as if to convince himself that this is something he can do and not something he’s completely freaking out about. “Fuck, I–” He slides he hand under the waistband of his boxers, unable to hold himself back any longer. His eyes slip closed again. “I think maybe you can help me, too,” he says with a strained laugh.

“I’m glad,” Gerard says, and then when Frank doesn’t respond, “Give me something, Frankie.”

Frank takes in a sharp breath. “Fuck, okay. Um…” Frank tries to think of anything other than Gerard jacking off in bed as he does the same. “Remember Omaha? Middle of the tour? You grabbed me and sucked on my neck from behind. I didn’t even look at you, I don’t think, but I was fucking rock hard. God, that was so hot.”

“Shit, yeah I remember.” Gerard laughs. “How could I forget? You looked so fucking good in that tank top. What the fuck happened to that thing?” Gerard’s breaths are coming loud down the line as he speaks. He isn’t bothering to try to control them any longer.

“I think someone stole it or something. I left it in the dressing room when I went to go shower. Was gone when I got back.” He strokes his dick faster as he thinks about having jacked off in the shower that night to thoughts of what Gerard had done to him on stage.

Gerard seems to have similar thoughts in mind because he mumbles, “Fuck… you in the shower, _shit_.”

“I thought about you, in the shower,” Frank confesses. “I thought about you kissing my neck and how much I wanted you to do it again.”

“Fucking hell, Frankie.” Gerard gives a few more muffled groans before the line goes silent for a minute. Finally, Gerard says, “You still with me?”

“Yeah. Barely,” Frank says, incredibly close now.

“Good. Remember when you walked in on me and that chick? Uhh… Mary, I think. The merch girl.”

Frank scoffs. “You should know her name, dude. And yeah, I remember. You were knee-deep in pussy in our shared hotel room.” He pauses for a deep breath. “Not gonna forget that image any time soon.”

“I’m sure she’s forgotten all about me.” _Likely story,_ Frank thinks, but he says nothing. Gerard continues, “Anyway, when we were done she asked me if I could introduce her to you, because she thought you were really hot. And I told her I could but the thing is, _I_ think you’re really hot, so she’s gonna have some competition–”

“Whoa, wait, slow down. What?” Frank is starting to think that Gerard isn’t too good with this whole dirty-talk thing.

“Okay I’ll get to the point. We got to talking about what we’d like to do with you, and I ended up kicking her out because I got too worked up thinking about sucking you off.”

“Holy shit.” Frank’s pace quickens without him even realizing.

“I would. _Fuck_ , I would. In a heartbeat.” Gerard sounds fucking wistful, and Frank can’t believe all this mutual lust was right under his nose.

“Are you serious?” he asks, just to make sure.

“Fucking dead serious. God, I would _love_ your cock in my mouth, Frankie.”

It’s all too much and suddenly Frank is careening over the edge and come is spilling out over his chest. He breathes hard for a minute or so, trying to get ahold of himself. “Shit, Gee,” he says finally.

“You good?” Gerard asks.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” Frank gives a short laugh.

“Good. Let’s go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

The line goes dead but it doesn’t matter because Frank has dropped his phone having suddenly remembered the group breakfast, and that Gerard will be there. He looks at the clock. 5:01 am. He won’t sleep a wink.


	4. But the Back Seat of the Drive-In is So Lonely Without You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A high school AU in which Frank has never had a proper kiss.  
> (Frank is a junior and has just turned 17, Gerard is a senior and is about 17 and a half)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title comes from Saturday Night by the Misfits.
> 
> Frank/Gerard below. Rated G.

“Gee, can I ask you a favor?” Frank’s laying on his back on the car’s hood, staring up at the cloudy autumn sky.

Gerard shifts beside him. “Sure, Frankie. Anything.” He sounds like he means it.

Frank turns his head to look at Gerard. The other boy is laying with his arms folded behind his head, eyes closed, looking peaceful.

“Will you kiss me?”

Gerard’s eyes fly open and his head quickly turns towards Frank. “What?”

“I just…” Frank sighs. “I feel like a fucking loser. I’m seventeen and I’ve never had a good kiss. There was Jamia, for like two seconds, and then she dumped me. And there was Amanda that one time when we played truth or dare. But I’ve never _really_ been kissed.” Gerard stares silently at Frank with his mouth hanging open. “You don’t have to or anything. I just thought I’d ask,” Frank adds, turning away from Gerard. He isn’t mad. A little disappointed, yeah. But he refuses to be mad about Gerard turning him down.

He hears Gerard swallow. “No,” he says. Frank looks at him again. “No, I– I’ll kiss you.”

Frank’s heartrate immediately picks up and his eyes widen. “You will?”

Gerard stares intently back. “Totally.”

Suddenly Gerard is sitting up and inching towards him. Frank sits up as well and starts to freak out a little. Just a little. “I–” he starts but can’t seem to keep going when Gerard’s hand lands on his hip and their eyes meet again.

They’re so close now, and Frank thinks Gerard is probably able to hear his pounding heartbeat. Frank stares at Gerard for a moment, neither of them moving, and then Gerard’s eyes flick to Frank’s lips and he’s moving closer and Frank is too. His eyes slip closed as their lips meet. The kiss is soft, Gerard’s warm lips pressing lightly against Frank’s. He didn’t expect it to be much but for some reason his heart is swelling and his hands are sweating and the blood is rushing deafeningly in his ears. It only lasts for a moment, one long, seemingly endless moment, and then then Gerard is pulling back. Frank expects him to look disgusted, but he doesn’t. His eyes are bright and his mouth looks like it’s approaching something close to a smile. He looks… happy.

“You know, that’s only one of a handful of good kisses I’ve ever had, if I’m being honest. So I’m a loser same as you. We can be losers together.”

 _Together_. Frank repeats the word in his head over and over again. He smiles. “Yeah.”


	5. Undone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by KobraKids's fic Breathless which I think had been removed from AO3 :(
> 
> Kobra/Cola below. Rated E.

“Kobra, you seriously need to shut the fuck up.” Cherri slows his thrusts to cast a sharp look down at Kobra. “If Party catches us fucking in their car they’re gonna flip out.”

“Fuck Party,” Kobra says. “And fuck _me_. Harder. Now.”

Cherri sighs but pulls back, snapping his hips forward with more force than before.

“ _Shit_ , Cherri. Fuck, right there, right there, right fucking _there_.” Kobra closes his eyes and reaches back to find something, anything to hold onto. His hand meets the front passenger seat, and he grips the side of it with all the strength he can muster. He lets out a particularly loud moan and Cherri clamps a hand over his mouth.

“I fucking mean it, Kobra,” Cherri growls, but he doesn’t slow his thrusts. Kobra eyes have a devious gleam in them, and Cherri slowly slides his hand from Kobra’s mouth down to his throat, gripping it loosely. Cherri looks down at him searchingly, just to be absolutely sure, and Kobra nods as best he can with Cherri’s hand at his neck.

Kobra lets out another load moan. He doesn’t mean to, but Cherri slams forward and hits his prostate absolutely dead on and he couldn’t keep quiet through _that_ if his life depended on it. Suddenly, his moans turn to strained grunts as Cherri’s fingers sink into the sides of his throat.

Cherri’s eyes burn into Kobra’s as he continues to hit that spot over and over, keeping a firm hold on Kobra’s throat. With his other hand, he reaches forward and jerks Kobra’s cock in time with his thrusts.

“Oh sh– shit,” Kobra wheezes. His eyes roll back in his head as he comes hard with Cherri pounding into him.

Cherri can’t quite tell in the dark, but he’s pretty sure some of Kobra’s come splattered on the backseat of the Trans Am. At the moment, he can’t bring himself to care. He continues to slam forward a few more times until his own orgasm washes over him, his fingers slowly loosening their hold on Kobra’s neck.

The two of them breathe heavily together for a few moments. And then, Cherri asks, “You okay?”

Kobra smiles lazily up at him. “Better than okay. Fuck, that was good.” He scrubs a hand over his face and then slides it down to his throat, where there will almost certainly be bruises tomorrow.

Cherri pulls out and the two of them attempt to clean themselves up, and mostly fail. Finally, they pull up their pants and Cherri slides into the back seat next to Kobra where they wrap their arms around each other.

Cherri nestles his nose into the hollow of Kobra’s shoulder and says, “You know, the next time you decide to jump me, maybe make sure to have a gag with you.”

Kobra snorts a laugh and the two of them soon fall asleep in the back of the Trans Am, trying hard not to think about what a painful death will be inflicted upon them if Party finds any come stains.


	6. An Equal Exchange (According to Pete Wentz)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early Summer of Like. Pete wants a selfie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm probably not good at writing Pete. Sorry. I don't know much about him but I wanted to write this for some reason.
> 
> Mikey/Pete below. Rated E.

“Mikeyway, _what_ do I have to do to get you to take a selfie with me?” Pete whines.

“A whole lot more than that,” Mikey says as he gestures to the pack of Pop Tarts Pete is holding out for him.

Pete scoffs and shoves the pack into the deep pocket of his hoodie. He looks down at the asphalt between them and taps his foot, thinking. Finally, he says, “Would you do it if I blew you?”

Mikey is silent for a moment, and then, “What?”

Pete looks serious, his face not betraying any hint of sarcasm. “Would you take a selfie with me if I sucked you off?”

“Uhh… I– um.” Mikey doesn’t know what to say, but he’s surprised to find that he really, _really_ wants to say yes. “I guess?”

Pete breaks out in a huge grin. “Great!” He suddenly moves forward into Mikey’s space and presses him back against a tour bus that belongs to God knows what band. He quickly sinks to his knees and begins working at Mikey’s belt.

Mikey sputters, trying to find words. “What are you doing?”

Pete stops and looks up at him inquisitively. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“I’m not– I don’t–” Mikey sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “Come up here.”

Pete stands up, staying close to Mikey, his eyes wild and dark. “What is it, Mikes?”

Mikey looks at Pete for a second, and then grabs the lapels of his hoodie and hauls him in. Their lips crash together and Pete instantly goes with it, his arms snaking around Mikey’s neck. Mikey slides his tongue along Pete’s lower lip and soon it’s pressing insistently into Pete’s mouth. Pete responds avidly and pushes Mikey harder against the bus, chests and hips fitting together. They break apart and Pete slides a thigh in between Mikey’s, earning groans from both of them.

Slowly, Pete slides down again, keeping his gaze fixed on Mikey as he goes. He finishes undoing Mikey’s belt and moves to his zipper, pulling it down tantalizingly slow. Mikey knows they’re out in the open, that at any second someone could round the corner of the bus and catch them, but he finds he doesn’t much care. Pete suddenly yanks down Mikey’s jeans to about halfway down his thighs and palms Mikey through his boxers. Mikey groans and feels the back of his head lightly bump against the cool metal of the bus.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he breathes out.

Pete slides the boxers down to meet Mikey’s pants, freeing his cock. He jerks Mikey a few times, tauntingly, and smiles up at him as their eyes meet again.

Mikey takes in a sharp breath when Pete circles his thumb over the head. “Motherfucker.”

Pete chuckles and leans forward, taking the head of Mikey’s cock in his mouth. Mikey’s hands fly to the back of Pete’s head, gently cupping it as he tries to control his breathing. Pete slowly works his way down the shaft, and Mikey feels the head hit the back of Pete’s throat. Pete circles his tongue and then hallows out his cheeks, and Mikey cannot contain the groan that falls from his lips. He quickly glances around to make sure they’re still alone, and is relieved to find that they are, but his eyes dart back down to Pete’s as he feels the other man swallow around him.

“Holy fuck,” he breathes out and his head tilts back against the bus once again and his eyes slip closed.

Pete pulls off and starts jerking Mikey fast. “You ever gotten head like this before?”

Mikey isn’t sure if he means this situation or this quality, but he settles for, “Once, got caught.”

“Was it worth it?”

“No.” Mikey can barely speak with Pete’s hand moving fast on his cock, and he thinks he’s going to have to give Pete a warning soon.

“Is this?”

Mikey looks down and his eyes meet Pete’s. “Fuck _yes_.”

Pete smiles and then shifts his hand down to the base while his mouth moves back onto Mikey’s dick. He pushes forward all the way, removing his hand when his lips meet it, and then picks up a fast rhythm, his lips sliding along Mikey’s cock over and over and over.

Mikey’s fingers curl in Pete’s hair and he tugs when he feels himself about to topple over the edge and Pete pulls back just in time for Mikey to splatter come across his cheek.

The two of them breathe hard for a moment, neither of them moving. Finally, Mikey looks down and matches Pete’s wide grin. “So, you said you wanted a selfie?”


	7. The Plague Looks Good On You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank isn't sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated G.

Frank sneezed.

Ray turned his head toward Frank and widened his eyes. “I’ll uhh… I’ll see you later,” he said as he hopped up off the couch and scurried out of the lounge as fast as he could.

“Oh, come on! It was just a sneeze, I’m not sick!” Frank yelled after him.

“You’re probably sick,” Mikey said from his seat next to Frank, not taking his eyes off his phone.

Frank gawked at him. “I’m _not_ sick.”

“You’re sick?” Gerard asked as he boarded the bus.

“Oh shit, Frank,” Brian said as he climbed up after Gerard. “We’ve got, like, four shows before we get a break. Do you need me to call a doctor? Get you some antibiotics?”

“I’m _not_ sick!” Frank flailed his hands in the air in frustration.

“Are you sure?” Gerard moved forward and pressed his palm to Frank’s forehead. Frank thought about shrugging him off, but figured that would only make him seem guilty. “You don’t feel warm. Maybe you’re all right.”

“Of course I am. I’m _fine_.” They all stared at Frank, seemingly waiting for something. “What are you–” Frank sneezed.


	8. Fine Art

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some day I'll write silly scenes between literally anyone other than Gerard and Frank. But, for now, there's this.
> 
> Rated G.

“Fucking hold still, you jittery piece of shit.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry,” Frank says through his giggles. His hand shakes in Gerard’s grip, and the black paint nearly smears all over his hand.

Gerard sighs. “This is gonna look like crap. You put my painting skills to shame.”

“It’ll chip off after I’ve been playing for about two seconds anyway,” Frank says, shrugging, and once again causing the brush to dip off his nail and onto his hand.

Gerard glares at him, but says nothing. He paints the rest of Frank’s nails in silence, and when he’s done says, “You have to let those dry. Don’t touch _anything_ for the next thirty minutes.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Frank waves him off as he stands up.

“Thirty minutes!” Gerard calls but the dressing room door is already slamming closed. Gerard sighs again, and goes to work on his own nails.


	9. Young and Loaded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kobra has a secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't updated this series in FOREVER but here ya go! Just a silly little one-shot.  
> This is based on an HC post on tumblr that I can't find for the life of me. If you know the one I'm talking about please send it to me!
> 
> Rated G.

“Ghoul, what the fuck!” Kobra yells. Typical of Ghoul to spill soda all over someone else, the careless bastard. And he doesn’t even care that the stuff is fucking priceless, _or_ that Kobra’s mad about it. Ghoul just cackles and goes back to where he was sitting next to Pony.

Kobra looks down at his ruined t-shirt and sighs. He’ll probably never get those stains out. Quickly, he pulls the shirt up and over his head, crumpling it up in a ball and dropping it on the ground.

Around him, everything goes quiet.

He looks up at the group to see everyone staring at him; even Dr. D seems surprised.

“What?” Kobra asks.

“Um,” Party says. “When the fuck did my little brother get _jacked_?”

Kobra looks down at his chest and stomach. He’s proud of the work he’s put into his body, sure, but he doesn’t feel the need to show it off to anyone. If they never noticed his growing biceps and defined abs, that’s not exactly his fault.

Kobra shrugs and looks around the group again. Ghoul looks like he’s practically drooling, and Kobra wonders if maybe he did this on purpose. “I don’t know. I just, like, work out occasionally. ‘S no big deal.”

“‘No big deal’ would be staying in shape so you don’t get your ass whooped by Dracs,” Jet points out. “ _This_ is ‘I’m a major hunk and no one even knew about it.’ Dude, what the hell.” Jet actually sounds annoyed about this, which Kobra finds kind of hilarious.

“Well maybe that’s because hand-to-hand combat takes a lot more work than shooting a stupid laser gun,” Kobra bites back.

“I’ll teach you how to a shoot a gun, honey” Pony says, giggling. “Just gotta aim straight.”

“Hey, hey, now,” Dr. D cuts in. “Sure, the boy’s got a little more meat on his bones than we thought, but now we know. Let’s just move on.”

“Not sure I can after what I’ve seen…” Ghoul mutters and everyone cracks up.

“Whatever,” Kobra says, walking backwards across the sand to the diner. “I’m getting a clean shirt.”

“Aw, but baby, it’s so hot out,” Pony says. “Don’t you wanna–”

The rest of Pony’s sentence is cut off by the diner door swinging closed behind Kobra.

“Fuckin’ assholes,” Kobra says fondly.


	10. Shut Up (Please Talk To Me)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels like forever since I published anything. Sorry about that. Things are coming! I promise! Though the main thing I'm working on is for Bandom Big Bang so that won't be up until like October. But things are indeed happening.
> 
> This is based on [this post](http://hehimlesbiangerard.tumblr.com/post/173653696398/awsugar-boyfriend-gerard-for-frxnkiero) and the tags by hehimlesbiangerard on tumblr. Title comes from the song by Pine Box Drive.
> 
> Bert/Gerard. Rated T.

It's weird having anyone in his basement, let alone someone with a big ass film camera. But they'd wanted footage of him in his natural environment or whatever and Gerard thought he might as well show the fans what it's all about, Star Wars bedspread and all. 

"My thing is figuring out whether or not I'm going to take a shower," he says and combs a piece of hair back behind his ear with his fingers. A very greasy piece of hair. "And then... that's it! And getting dressed." A challenge if there ever was one. 

The camera dude is weirdly silent, and it makes Gerard feel awkward. He can hear the sound of the water running in the bathroom where Bert is brushing his teeth or some shit. "I'm probably gonna take a shower," he says. 

The water in the bathroom shuts off and Bert yells, "If you don't fucking shower I'm not gonna fuck you tonight!" 

"I just said I'm gonna fucking shower!" Gerard yells back and then, to the camera guy, says, "Sorry." 

The camera man shakes his head like it doesn't bother him and then presses a button that makes the little red light on the camera turn off. "I'll just... go," he says, and then shows himself out of the basement. 

Gerard exhales slowly. Bert exits the bathroom then, fully dressed but not shaved, as usual. "Do you have to be so crude all the time?" Gerard gripes. 

Bert laughs. "I'm just bein' honest. Now get your ass in the shower before it starts stinkin' up the whole place." 

"Fine." Gerard passes by Bert on his way to the bathroom and feels a light smack on his butt cheek as he goes. "Just for that, I'm not putting out," Gerard says over his shoulder. 

"There's no use in making empty threats, Gee." 

"Shut up," Gerard says as he closes the bathroom door behind him.


	11. Delayed Gratification

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know I haven't published bandom fic in like 10 years and i've been saying new stuff is coming for about 20, but. New stuff is coming. Like, it really is. I promise. 
> 
> My fic for Bandom Big Bang is 21k and totally done but won't be published until BBB posting in November, and I have another frerard wip that's at 32k that's getting waaaayy longer than I expected (I thought it'd be 15k at the most). So both of those are coming soonish. Thank you for being patient with me! Here's some smut for your trouble.
> 
> Frank/Gerard. Rated E.

“Please?” 

Frank’s giving him  _that look_ , but Gerard stands his ground. “No.” 

“But… Please?” If possible, Frank’s eyes get wider, more desperate. 

“No.” 

Frank sighs, combing a hand through his hair. They’re in an abandoned hallway backstage where not two minutes ago Frank accosted Gerard while he was trying to warm up his voice. 

Frank scans the dark walls for the answers to his problems and then tries a new approach. “Look, if you don’t blow me before we go out there I’m gonna come on stage.” 

Gerard scoffs. “Sounds like a you problem.” 

“But–” 

“Frank, I have to sing!” Never mind that Gerard used to blow him all the time before shows back in their van days. Things are different now. Now they’re not just playing to basement crowds of a few kids. Now they’re  _professionals_. 

“Okay… a handjob then?” 

“Oh my God. No.” Gerard goes back to humming scales, because he doesn’t really have a good reason not to jerk Frank off. Except that part of him likes the chase. 

Frank takes a step forward, his stance predatory. “What if I blew you first?” 

“Frank...” Gerard considers it for a moment. “No, I’ll be too sluggish out there if you do. You can get me off after.” He dismisses Frank with a wave of his hand. 

Frank shakes his head exasperatedly. “Only you would turn down a blowjob.” 

Gerard expects him to leave then, but as Gerard keeps warming up, Frank just stares, a contemplating look on his face. It makes Gerard nervous, and his eyes flit back to Frank every few moments. Finally, Frank takes another step forward, crowding Gerard up against the wall. 

“What if...” Frank says, and Gerard’s humming falters. “I helped you get a little worked up.” His breath lands on Gerard’s neck as he speaks, sending shivers up Gerard’s spine. 

Gerard swallows. “What do you mean?”  

“Hmm... I could get you hard, but not get you off. Make you wait for it.” 

Gerard’s dick is already starting to take interest, so he knows there’s not much a point in staving off Frank’s advances. But still. “I don’t see how that’d be helping.” 

Frank’s hand lands heavily on Gerard’s hip. “You’re always so sexy on stage when you’re turned on, Gee. You know the crowds love it.” He lets his lips ghost over Gerard’s pulse point, barely touching. “Just let me...” 

Frank slowly moves his hand until he’s cupping Gerard’s cock through his jeans. Gerard whimpers, growing harder as Frank kneads the denim beneath his fingers. 

“Yeah,” Frank whispers, now peppering Gerard’s throat with light kisses. 

He presses up against Gerard’s side, and that lets Gerard feel just how  _hard_  he is. Now he knows Frank meant it when he said he’ll probably come on stage if he doesn’t get it out of his system now. 

Gerard can’t stop himself from rolling his hips up into Frank’s hand, which also lets him grind against Frank’s hard-on. “Frankie,” he says, breathless. “Fuck.” 

Frank’s tongue darts out against Gerard’s throat. “Yeah, fuck.”  

Gerard is rutting mindlessly into Frank’s palm when Frank squeezes him tight, too tight, almost to the point of pain, and pulls back. 

“Nuh uh,” Frank says. “I said a  _little_  worked up.” 

Gerard lets out an embarrassing whine from the back of his throat. “Please.” 

“Nope. You said you didn’t want me to get you off until after.” 

Gerard closes his eyes and curses his own stupidity. “Fucking fine,” he says. He opens his eyes. “Come here.”   
Frank gives Gerard an untrusting look, but he steps back into Gerard’s space anyway.  

“I’ll-” Gerard’s hands are already at Frank’s belt. “We don’t have a lot of time.” 

Frank sucks in a breath as Gerard wraps a hand around his cock. “Don’t think that’ll be a problem.” 

Gerard strokes him fast, with a twist at the head just the way he knows Frank likes. In no time, he has Frank clinging to his shoulder and breathing heavily with his face buried in Gerard’s shirt. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Frank chants, bucking his hips into Gerard’s hand. “Gonna- Fuck, gonna-” 

“Yeah,” Gerard says, his voice wrecked. “Come on.” 

“Shit.” Frank lets out a groan as he comes, and Gerard would be worried that someone heard, but he’s too focused on how fucking beautiful Frank is. 

After a few moments of breathing heavily against Gerard’s chest, Frank lifts his head, a dopey grin on his face. “Knew I could get you to put out,” he says. 

“Shut up.” Gerard lightly shoves Frank away, watching as he does up his pants and tries to tame his hair back to something that looks like he hasn’t just had an orgasm. 

When he’s done, Frank looks up with a question in his expression. “You want...?” 

“Nah,” Gerard says. “After.” 

He can wait.


End file.
